In My Bones
by itsliabeth
Summary: (Set after Mid-Season Finale) Carl is alone. Separated from his dad, he is forced to make a path of his own. He meets Sam, another survivor, and together they try to regain control of their own lives and the world around them. In a world run by the dead-you never know how things are gonna turn out. Whether you'll end up dead, alive, or somewhere in between.
1. Chapter 1

I was tired. It'd been days since I'd caught a break and my body was on the verge of collapse. Some times I thought about just giving up, stopping the fight and letting the dead take what was left of me. My family was scattered. Judith was probably dead. And dad—I didn't even know if he was alive. We'd gotten swarmed, we ran. One minute he was crashing through the woods behind me and the next—there was nothing but silence and the echo of my screams as I tried to find him.

I staggered out of the trees and followed the highway into a town. Towns were dangerous, but I needed shelter. I needed food. I needed four walls around me so I could take a piss. Stores gave way to houses and everything seemed pretty quiet. I kept going until I reached a dead end and crept into the last house on the street. Worst-case scenario was I had to make a run for it—the woods made up half of the back yard so it would be easy to disappear in the event a herd decided to blow through. I shut the door and locked the deadbolt, leaning up against the wood to breathe.

After a sweep of the house I determined that someone else was already occupying the premises. There was a cook top stove in one of the upstairs bedroom with an open can of beans warming on it. Whoever it was—they'd took off whenever I came in. Or otherwise they were hiding and that wasn't good. I pulled my gun, counted the bullets, four left, and prayed that whoever was holed up in here, was willing to make friends.

"Hey, uh, my names Carl." I called out quietly. "I'm not looking for a fight or anything. I don't want your stuff. I just need a place to crash." I paused, waiting for a reply or sounds of movement, anything. "I don't want any trouble. I'm by myself. No one else is coming."

I got a reply, but it wasn't one I was expecting, or wanted. A menacing growl started up at my back and I turned around to see a large, angry looking pit slinking out in from the hallway. I raised my gun and took a step back. "Nice doggy."

"He's here for dinner." I half turned my body toward the voice, keeping my gun trained on the snarling dog. A scrawny looking boy made his way out of the closet, holding a knife in each hand, looking like he had some experience in throwing them and could ring me between the eyes in a heartbeat. He whistled to the dog. "Cupo, here."

The dog dodged to his masters side, keeping a wary eye on me, still snarling. I swallowed hard, my dad's voice ringing in my head, _put the gun down, Carl, make yourself an ally not an enemy. _I held my hands up and then slowly tucked the gun into its holster at my waist.

"I'm hoping by dinner you mean the beans and not my face."

"Haven't decided yet." The boy said, patting the dog on the head and whispering a command that stopped him from growling, but kept him at high alert. "You said you were alone?"

"That's right—for awhile now. I had a big group, but…I don't know where they are now. We got separated." I paused a moment, eyeing the dog and the knives and then studying the boy more closely. He couldn't be more than twelve or thirteen. He had a ski cap on and pulled low over his eyebrows, the portion of his face I could see was round, like he was still carrying some childhood fat there when the rest of his body had lost it. "You been here very long?"

"Few weeks."

I nodded, letting the conversation die so I could figure out if I had a chance to make friends with this kid or if I would be better off making a run for the door now. "Mind telling me your name kid?"

"Kid?" The boy snorted and shook his head. "My names Sam."

"Mind if I hang out for a few days, Sam? I won't be any trouble. I saw a couch down stairs I can stay down there if you want."

"No, I'd like you where I can keep an eye on you." He pointed to the closet. "In there is fine."

I eyed the walk-in with some trepidation. "You want to lock me in or something?"

"Not if I don't need to."

* * *

Four days passed. Sam was pretty quiet most of the time. He kept to one corner of the room with his dog when he was in the house and I stayed close to the closet. I tried making conversation a few times, but he didn't seem up to it. I figured something bad must have happened to him and he'd talk to me when he decided he could trust me.

That time came around a lot faster than I anticipated.

I came in the afternoon of the fifth day with a few squirrels I'd caught, adding them to the beans Sam had warming on the cook top, giving us a little more to consume than we normally had. He came over from his corner and sighed pretty heavily.

"Listen—I scoped out a department store not too far from here. I've been wanting to check it out but the dead ones have it pretty much on lockdown. Too big of a job for one person. If you can help me get in and out in one piece—then I figure you and me could make a go of being—hell I don't know, teammates I guess. I'll help you find your people." I thought over what he said and nodded.

"In and out? Piece of cake."

* * *

"Piece of cake? Fucking jackass." Sam growled, wiping the blood out of his eyes from the gash over his brow.

"What? We're in aren't we?" I replied with a smirk that was a lot more self assured than I felt. We were in—but barely.

"Shutup." Sam shoved past me and clicked on his flashlight.

"How old are you anyway?" I asked, following the scrawny boy through the aisles, shoving things into bag. He couldn't be more than twelve, how the hell had he survived out here on his own?

"I'm fourteen."

"How long have you been on your own?"

"Long enough." The conversation went dead for awhile, we cleaned out the canned food, first aid, and outdoor sections. I grabbed an extra duffel bag and pointed toward the doors.

"We need to search those trucks outside. There could be ammo." The place had national guard vehicles scattered across the parking lot, like they'd attempted to set up some kind of ground zero to treat the wounded, help the townies survive. I was itching for more bullets—maybe a few extra guns.

"There also could be a plate full of oh shit your dead."

"Come on. Don't be a pussy. We got this."

"If you say piece of cake I'm stabbing you in the nuts." I laughed shortly and nodded my head.

"If you get eaten out there I'll let you." I held my hand out for him to shake, offering him a deal. He eyed it and then flashed me the first smile I'd ever seen out of him.

"If I get eaten out there, I'm not just going to stab you." He grabbed my hand and shook it, grinning wider. "I'm going to eat you too."

* * *

Forty days passed. Sam and I were pretty much buddies by now. He'd never used a gun before so I attempted to help him learn without actually shooting it. He taught me to throw knives and even got Cupo to trust me and listen when I gave him simple commands.

We'd done a pretty good job of condensing our supplies into three packs, two that we could carry on our backs and one that could be strapped onto Cupo's. The dog didn't like it but after a few days of drill runs he got used to it. We sat down with a map and tried to come up with a plan.

"I think we should check the prison first." Sam said pointing to the spot on the map that I'd marked. I shook my head.

"It was covered in walkers after the battle. My dad and I barely got out."

"They could have gone back there though. If there were enough walls left…"

"There weren't, Sam."

"I'm just saying—"

"Well, don't. I'm not going back to the prison. Just drop it ok?" I was breathing hard. Cupo tensed up from his place on Sam's pallet in the corner and he pulled his ears back warily. I rubbed a hand over my face and sighed. "I'm sorry I yelled. I just—I lost too much there. Dad—he said not to look back. That it was over. I know he wouldn't go back. I'm positive."

"Ok. So then where do we start?"

* * *

We started nowhere. Basically it was a point and shoot game. More and more sections of the map were exxed out and I started to get the feeling that all we were doing was running circles around the people we were looking for. Every time we reached a likely looking hiding place, it was evident that we'd only just missed whoever had been squatting in it. I was getting pissed. One night I just lost it.

"Argh!" I yelled as my fist slammed into the mirror hanging over the sink and shattered the glass, forcing the jagged shards into my knuckles. Sam hurried in and gasped.

"What the hell, Carl!" He grabbed my wrist and pulled it close to him, picking out the glass with little finesse.

"It's fine." I growled. "I can do it."

"Shut up." He growled back, shoving me onto the toilet and crouching down in front of me to clean my hand. He poured some alcohol over it and wrapped it in gauze. Then he punched me in the jaw. "Fucking jackass."

I jumped to my feet, my hand closing over his neck and pinning him against the wall. He glared at me with a fierceness I had thought he reserved for walkers. "You're a fucking idiot. You want to hurt yourself, go ahead, but don't do it on my time. It's my ass that get's the shaft when you cripple yourself by throwing bullshit tantrums."

"Don't ever hit me, Sam." I growled, tightening my grip, wanting him to feel as scared as I did right then. Because truth was, I was scared out of my mind. Scared I'd never find my dad—find any of them. Sam's eyes grew wide and I swear he looked like he was tearing up.

"Let go of me." He choked, grabbing my wrist feebly. I held on a second longer and then released him, coming to my senses and feeling like shit.

"Hey, S-Sam, I'm s-"

"You're a dick is what you are. Save your apologies. I don't need any." He turned and stomped out of the room and down the hall. The slam of a door told me that I'd have to fend for myself with dinner—he definitely was not sharing the cook top after that fiasco.

It took me days to knock the Carl sized chip off of Sam's shoulder. I found a few books (he'd confessed once when we were squatting in a half burned out library that he'd hoped to find some books inside, that he had a big thing for reading, ever since he was a kid) and left them outside of his door along with a few cans of Vienna weinies, which for some reason, the guy had a sick craving for. This got me off the hook for busting up my shooting hand and then choking him with it.

Just in time to—we rolled into a town just shy of the Alabama state line and right into trouble. A swarm of walkers—seemingly coming out of nowhere—had us surrounded in a matter of minutes.

"What do we do?" Sam asked frantically, his back pressed to mine as we circle around, slashing at the ones that got close, putting bullets in the eyes of the ones who followed.

"We fight." I replied, and then shrugged. "Or we die."

"Piece of cake." Sam joked with a shaky voice.

"Piece of cake." I replied with a grunt. We held our own—for a while. And then Sam gave a cry of pain and hit the ground at my feet. I whirled around and saw him clutching his ribs. "What the fuck?"

"I—I don't know. I think—I think I just got shot!" Right as he said the absurd words, gunfire erupted everywhere. I did the first thing that came to my mind—I threw myself on top of the smaller boy in an attempt to protect him from the random gun bursts. Whoever was shooting didn't have the best aim. I fired a few shot of my own.

"Fuck! Be careful where you shoot that thing, B!" No way—it couldn't be. An arrow landed with a sickening _ssphlunk_ in the eye socket of a Dead One and I jumped to my feet.

"Daryl!" Might have been a mistake to yell out my old friend's name. He whirled around in my direction, jaw and guard dropping at the same time. A walker lunged up from behind him, his companion took a sloppy shot, taking out the things ear, but giving him a moment to recover his wits and spin around to sink a machete into the things scull. Needless to say we took out the rest of the walkers before trying to chat.

"Carl. Holy shit is it good to see you, brother." He embraced me quickly and then Beth was there, looking ragged and word.

"Carl! I can hardly believe it's you. I-I didn't hurt your friend did I?" She nodded toward Sam, who I'm ashamed to say I'd forgotten all about.

"Fuck, Sam." I crouched at his side and reach for his shirt. He slapped my hand away.

"N-no, I'm ok. Just a g-graze."

"I don't care. Let me see it." I reached out again and he shoved my hand away, trying to scramble backwards. "Sam, don't be an idiot. You got shot. Let me look at you."

I grabbed his shirt front and ripped it straight up the middle. He whimpered and hid his face behind his bloody hands. I fell backward on my ass. The thing was—there was something a lot more serious going on under his shirt than a bullet wound.

"S-Sam." I mumbled, pointing my finger stupidly at his chest, opening and closing my mouth a couple of times. "Sam, you've got—you've got boobs."


	2. Chapter 2

"Sam. Come on, Sam, wake up." I shook her shoulder, even gave her a little slap, but she just stayed limp, laying in a growing puddle of her own blood. I looked over my shoulder at Beth. "What do I do?"

"Whatever it is, we can't do it here." Daryl said, raising his bow and indicating with a nod of his head that we wouldn't be alone for very much longer. Dammit. We hadn't even gotten chance to look at the inventory of the place.

Beth crouched down and studied the wound on Sam's side. "It's not deep, but the bullets still in there. We need to get it out and bind it up."

"We gotta get out of here." Daryl said, backing away from the door, loading an arrow and crouching down to pull his machete out of a walker.

"He—I mean she—isn't waking up." Maybe I was freaking out a little. Maybe I wouldn't be if Sam was still the _dude_ I'd been hanging out with the past two months. But she wasn't…she was more delicate now…more fragile. I'd met some pretty bad ass women since God decided to give this whole zombie apocalypse thing a shot so I wasn't disillusioned or sexist—I'm not saying Sam was weaker now because he was a girl. But my idea of him—her—had changed. She needed to be protected, especially now that she was passed out and bleeding.

"It's just the shock. I don't think she's lost enough blood to be out this cold. She's probably never been shot before." I think Beth was joking with that last part, but I sure as hell was not in the right mindset to laugh.

"You're gonna have to carry her." Daryl let fly an arrow and grabbed Beth by the arm, dragging her toward the back of the store. "Saw a loading dock on our way in, There was a truck, might be drivable. If not—we hit it on foot while the loons try and catch up."

"Sorry, Sam." I mumbled, knowing when he—she, dammit—was going to be pissed I'd carried her. I lifted her up off the ground and followed Beth and Daryl to the back. Beth veered to the left and started snatching things off shelves.

"No time, B. We'll come back."

"I have to have this now. If that wound isn't treated right, it'll get infected and she—"

"Daryl, take Sam. Try the truck. If we don't come out and you have to jam head west through the trees, you'll see a creek a few miles up, pass it by about a mile and you'll come to a cabin. That's where we are. Watch out for the dog."

"Shouldn't you—" He began to protest as I threw Sam into his arms and headed for Beth.

"You're bigger, you can carry her farther and faster if you have to run. I'll help Beth with the supplies." I turned to Beth and threw her my backpack. "I'll hold off the dead ones, grab anything and everything you can fit and get out of here. Don't wait for me."

"What are you gonna do?" She asked hurrying up and down aisles grabbing random items and stuffing them away.

"We're running on fumes back at the cabin. That's why we came into town. Sam wanted to hit the houses. I can get in and out with no problem by myself with the right distraction." I pulled a bottle rocket out of my back pocket and showed it to her. She grinned at me, zipping up her bag and shaking her head.

"It's not the first time you guys have worked through this plan is it?" She said, stuffing her coat pockets full of spaghetti o's.

"No, it isn't. They're gonna try to follow you. Run fast, try to zig zag so you lose them, don't lead them to the cabin, but get there as quick as you can. I didn't hear the truck so Daryl must be on foot, catch up to him." She rushed over to me and kissed me on the cheek before turning and running toward the door.

"It's good to see you, Carl. Be safe."

When she was clear, I set off the firecracker and slipped out of the emergency exit, hiding behind some garbage bins while the walkers hoarded toward the explosion inside the Piggly-Wiggly. I gave it six minutes, and then I ran toward the opposite end of town, hitting houses as I went, total waste of time. All I ever ended up finding was moldy bread, moldy bologna, and photographs of people who were all dead. An hour and a half later I'd made a sweep of the entire town and all I'd found was a half empty container of gas, some disposable razors, and a couple cans of Alpo.

My mind turned toward my companion. Had they made it to the cabin? Had Beth already attempted to get the bullet out? Had Cupo taken Daryl's shooting arm off? I rounded the back side of a house and headed back toward the Piggly-Wiggly. The dead were everywhere. I groaned and brought my ax to the ready.

"Come on. Come one. Come on." I tried psyching myself up but really, I didn't have much confidence that I was going to make it out alive. "Don't be a pussy." I mumbled to myself. "Piece. Of. Cake."

* * *

"Where—where's Carl?" I choked out past my sandpaper throat. The blonde girl slid her arm behind my back and helped me sit up. I winced at the pain that shot through my side. "Are you the one that shot me?"

"Yeah, sorry about that. I've been working on my aim." She smiled at me sheepishly and pressed a bottle of water into my hands.

"Work harder." The man with the bow was standing by the window, weapon at the ready, searching pretty hard for something he obviously wasn't seeing. "So—Carl? Where is he?"

"Carl stayed behind. He wanted to hit a few of the houses before heading back." The girl said, her voice entirely too calm for my comfort.

"And you let him? Are you stupid?" I tried to get up, but she pressed her hand to my shoulder. I glared at her. "Take your hand off me."

"Easy tiger." The man set his bow down and ambled over to us. "You just got shot—"

"Thanks to you." I interrupted.

"Regardless—you're not going anywhere."

"Did you see the horde in that town? He can't take that on by himself."

"He had a plan. Said you'd done it before?" The girl said, finally starting to sound a little worried.

"Yeah, we have. Together." I glared at each of them in turn and tried to get up again. "He can't do it by himself."

"Shit." The man groaned and then headed for the door. "Keep her here. I'll go get him."

"You can't keep me anywhere." I yelled, shoving the girl's hand away from me and staggering to my feet. Instantly, I was dizzy and seeing spots. "I have to—I have to help Carl."

"Yeah? Well why don't you help him by not getting yourself killed. When he gets back, he'll want to see you breathing." The blonde girl was really getting on my nerves. I stepped up into her face and growled.

"You don't—"

"You ladies want to lower the hackles and tend to the bleeding guy."

"Carl!" It made me sick to my stomach to see the little twiglet rushing over to his side, but it wasn't like I could really do it—we didn't have that type of relationship did we? Up until a few hours ago, he was pretty sure I had a dick.

I gave him a quick once over, most of the blood didn't look like it belonged to him, but there was a gash on his cheek that didn't look very pretty. He caught my eye and instantly shifted his gaze away. So this was going to be awkward. Awesome.

"Fucking jackass." I said quietly. His gaze shot back to me and a familiar crooked smile graced his blood stained face.

"Piece of cake."

* * *

_"What do you miss most?" Carl commented one night as we sat back to back, huddled close to a tiny fire._

_"What?"_

_"About the real world. What do you miss most?" He leaned his head against mine and yawned widely. Neither of us would probably get any sleep tonight. Not without shelter. The best we could do was stay warm. I shrugged trying to think of something._

_"Razors."_

_"What the hell do you need razors for?" I realized by blunder too late. Boys our age don't need razors. They don't care about body hair and their facial hair didn't grow yet._

_"I uh—used to keep my head—uh really bald. It's—you know—I uh—"_

_"Do you secretly shave your pits, Sam? Cause that's pretty weird." He teased, elbowing me in the back. I laughed nervously._

_"Yeah, no. I just hate my hair."_

_"Are you a ginger? I thought something was off about you."_

_"Suck it, Carl." He chuckled a little and then yawned again. I smiled to myself and shook my head. "What do you miss?"_

_"Sunday mornings." He said automatically, his voice wistful. It was obvious he'd been thinking about it and that it made him sad. I didn't ask, figuring he would tell me if he wanted to. "Did I ever tell you about my mom?"_

_"No." I said quietly, steeling myself for an emotional conversation that I wasn't ready to have. If he started spilling his guts I'd have to spill mine—and I wasn't ready to be fully honest with him._

_"She was—she was really special. Beautiful—like so pretty it made your insides hurt."_

_"What was her name?" I asked, prompting him to continue when he trailed off for a while._

_"Lori." He breathed, his voice rough and cracking. "Sunday mornings she would get up and make these—these really god awful shitty pancakes. I mean they were a really special kind of disgusting. But we'd sit around the living room floor and we'd watch cartoons and dad—he'd ask for like—fourth helpings—and she'd just laugh and—my insides would hurt and—I really miss Sunday mornings."_

_I wasn't completely up to date on the bro code, but I was almost positive that if I acknowledged that he was crying I would be seriously breaking the rules. But I acknowledged it anyway. I groped around in the dirt until I found his hand and I just grabbed it—not caring that it wasn't a very guy thing to do. He latched on like his life depended on it and we stayed like that until the sun started to rise._

_In the light of the day—it was as if the whole thing never happened._

* * *

"Sam? You out here?" Cupo raised his head off the floor, his tail thumping wildly at the sound of Carl's voice. I shook the memory out of my head and looked up as he stepped out onto the back porch where I had been hiding for the past few hours. I looked up at him and he motioned to the piece of wood next to me. I shrugged and he sat down. "So—"

"So." I replied.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He didn't sound mad, which surprised me. If I were in his shoes—I don't think I could have been so ok about the bomb that landed in his lap today. "I mean I get why you wouldn't have at first, but—we're friends right? Didn't you think you could trust me?"

I took a deep breath. All or nothing, Sam.

"My uh—my dad was a huge asshole. He used to—he used to touch me and my little brother. He was a deacon you know at First Baptist so no one ever believed me when I tried to tell them." I didn't want to keep going, but his hand found mine and it gave me strength. "When the Dead Ones came I—I just thought if he died I could blame it on them and no one would question it."

"You killed him." He said, his voice solid and steady, holding no judgment or disgust.

"It was just me and Aaron after that. I did what I could you know. I protected him. He was—he was supposed to stay in the house. I just was right out back. He started screaming and there was blood everywhere. I—I had to—I had to—" I stopped and buried my hands in my face. I tried to resist when he put his arms around me. I didn't want our relationship to change just because I was a girl now. If I were a guy he wouldn't be hugging me. He wouldn't think I was weak. But I couldn't stay distant for very long. I let him hug me and I let myself cry, something I hadn't done, not once, since Aaron died. "He was only four. Four years old. He didn't even know his abcs's."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"We've all been through something, Carl. We've all killed people." I pulled out of his comforting embrace and dried my face with the ends of my sleeves. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want anything to change. I want to still be Sam. I want to—I want you to still let me have your back."

"You've still got it." He held his hand up in the world wide symbol of 'give me five' and I slapped my palm against it. He laughed shortly and I raised my eyebrow. "How hard was it for you to make your voice that low this whole time."

I laughed and stood up, cupping my hand over my sore rib cage. He jumped up beside me and followed me inside. "It was even harder trying to get you out of the way so I could squat to pee."

I tried to walk away, to leave him standing there with that goofy looking expression of shock on his face, but he called out to me and I had to turn around to see what he wanted. He tossed something at me and I caught it, turning it over to read the face of it. I looked up at him incredulously.

"It's what you miss the most right?" I laughed as I looked back down at the pack of disposable razors in my hands and nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

**Author Note:**

**So it wasn't my intention to make a long story out of this. I was going to post two chapters and that was it, but I've gotten a few more ideas since then and I'm going to give it a shot. Hope you enjoy :)**


	3. Chapter 3

It was incredibly obvious that Sam was in fact a girl—and it wasn't just because I'd seen her boobs. Her lips for one thing, they were full and plump and they curved into a heart shape when she smile. Her lashes were long and thick and she had curves for days. How had I never noticed any of this? All because her hair was stuffed up into a ski cap? Fucking jackass.

"Hey, did you hear what I said?" Beth snapped her fingers in front of my face and puled me out of my daze.

"Huh? Did you say something?"

She gave a long whistle and ruffled my hair. "Isn't it weird that you have a mega crush on someone who two days ago—you thought was a guy?"

"I don't have a crush on her." I defended, turning my back on the "her" in question so that it would be impossible for me to get distracted again. "I'm just—noticing her for the first time."

"Well, good because we don't need any distractions. Especially not the sexual tension type." I rolled my eyes and she laughed, ruffling my hair again, which I hated. It made me feel like a kid. "Anyway, like I was saying, I'm pretty sure that the group on the bus have crossed the state border by now. If you guys have covered these areas and we've been all over these zones over here—there aren't many places left they could be inside the Georgia lines."

"You guys haven't run into a single person?"

"No." She said, looking really sad. She was thinking about Maggie. I put my hand on her shoulder and she leaned into me with a sigh. "It's like we're searching for someone who—"

"Who isn't there." I finished quietly, nodded my head, completely understanding that she was tough—on the outside. On the inside she was scared, terrified even that her sister was dead and she would never see her again. "Like we're searching for ghosts."

"Do you think we'll find them?" I thought about the last time I'd seen my dad—bloody, battered, scared—and I closed my eyes against the pain that rose up in my chest.

"I think we'll find some of them."

* * *

Eighteen days passed. It was both easier and harder with Beth and Daryl on our side. Easier because we had more people watching our back. Harder because that meant there were more people to feed and we were running out of place to raid for food.

"Dammit." I cursed under my breath over and over again as I split a pile of wood for the fireplace. We were still at the cabin, we went out daily, looking for people, for food, for something. We found food. We found walkers. We found everything. Except for people.

"Carl. Carl. Carl!" I lifted my head and found Daryl standing there staring at me with a pitying look on his face. I looked down and saw the pile of splinters where the wood chunk I'd been working on used to be and I dropped the ax, sitting on the ground and pressing my face to my knees.

"I'm losing my mind." I finally said, looking up at him. He took a seat beside me and offered me half of an apple. I shrugged and took it, munching into it and letting the sound of my chewing drown out the noise in my head.

"We'll keep looking."

"We say that every time we go out there and come back empty handed." I shook my head and chucked the apple core across the yard. It crashed through the bare branches of a tree and knocked it's way back down to the ground.

"I know, brother. But we'll keep looking. We found each other. We'll find your dad. We'll find the others." He clapped his hand on my shoulder and shook me. "Don't give up, Carl. It's going to be ok."

"I want to believe that. I just—I don't think I can."

* * *

"On the road again…oh how I hate to be on the road again. All these dead folks chasing us again. Oh how I hate to be on the road again."

"Seriously, Daryl—if you don't shut up that god awful singing I'm going to tie you to the nearest tree and let them have you for breakfast." Daryl grinned sideways at Sam and flicked her the bird. She aimed her gun at his face with a smirk. "You know I've been wondering what a song bird tastes like on a kabob."

Daryl laughed and threw his arm over her shoulders. "You know what, little lady. I like you. You fit right in around here."

"Around here being a dead infested new America also home to obnoxious bow toting jackasses?"

"Exactly." I watched all this from my place a few feet behind, not liking the mean, sick feeling that was roiling around in my stomach at the sight of them being so chummy and close even though Sam was way too young for Daryl to even look at. I didn't like it. And I wasn't entirely sure that I liked myself for not liking it.

"If you don't both shut up we're all gonna get eaten for breakfast." I mumbled, speeding up and shoving past them.

"Whoa, brother." Daryl laughed, shoving my shoulder jokingly. "Something crawl up your ass this morning."

I kept walking, telling myself to calm down, there was nothing for me to be so pissed off about. I was so caught up in my own head that I missed the sound of Beth sending up the warning whistle and the only reason I made it out of the line of fire was Sam grabbing the back of my shirt and yanking me behind a tree.

The wood cracked as a bullet lodged itself into the bark. Sam was breathing hard, her eyes wide with fright as her eyes darted left and right, looking for the culprit. She made a hand signal in Cupo's direction and he lowered himself onto his belly, ears perked forward, the hair raised all along his back. I saw Daryl ducked in some bushes a few yards away, Beth not far away from him. We all made eye contact at different points in time, drawing our weapons as a unit.

"Who's there?" A single voice called out through the trees shortly followed by the click of more than one gun. Whoever was aiming for us was not alone. "Show yourself."

"And get another bullet sent toward our heads?" Sam called back. "Yeah right. You show yourself."

"Shut up." I hissed at her, she glared at me.

"You're on our turf. Come out and we might not kill you." This time when Sam opened her mouth to reply I slapped my hand over it. I looked over at Daryl and he shrugged. "We won't shoot you."

Sam rolled her eyes at me and her tongue darted out and I pulled my hand back in disgust. "How many of you are there?"

"Just three here, but we've got more. If we don't come back they'll come looking for you."

"Yeah…same with us!" Beth called from her hiding place.

"You're lying. We've been watching you for days. You're alone." The voice called back. "How did you know where to find us? Who told you about our camp?"

"This is pointless." Daryl grumbled, rising to his feet and stepping out with his hands up. Beth followed him. I tried to, but Sam shoved me back up against a tree.

"Sam." I hissed, glaring at her. "We are going out there."

"No, we are not. We stay here until—"

"Until we see if my friends get shot?" I put my hands on her arms and backed her up. "You go ahead."

"Where is the fourth one?"

"What?"

"There was a fourth. Where is she?" I looked sideways at Sam. She mouthed an insult my way before stepping out from behind the tree.

"Your turn." Daryl, the unofficial leader, took a step forward, eyes darting around in search of our unwelcome new companions. A man stepped out from behind some trees, a woman followed on his right and another, older man on his left. "Look, we are just passing through. Looking for some friends of ours."

"You ain't got no friends out this way." The woman aimed her gun at Beth and Daryl sidestepped in front of her and I found myself doing the same with Sam. She hit me in the back.

"What the hell are you doing?" She hissed angrily.

"Protecting you." I growled back over my shoulder. I'm not sure I ever felt so much hatred in one glance before.

"Move out of my way, Carl." Her voice was low resonating with anger and worse than that—betrayal.

* * *

We found ourselves leading the way into an encampment, the three at our backs, guns cocked, our weapons stowed inside of a burlap sack toted by the older gentleman. Cupo was not a happy camper. He growled and snarled and whined, stopping occasionally to roll himself around on the pavement.

"Can you shut that stupid animal up?" The woman, who told us her name was Jennel, demanded, yanking on the rope that they'd tied around Cupo's neck. He growled menacingly and Sam crouched down at his eye level.

"Cupo, settle." She glared at Jennel as she stroked his neck. "He'll cooperate more if you take off this damned rope. He doesn't like it."

"And I don't like dogs. Tough shit." The woman yanked the rope again and Sam jumped to her feet, drawing back her fist, ready to let fly a blow to the mouth. I stepped forward and grabbed her arm.

"Don't touch me." She growled, yanking out of my grasp and then turning back to the woman. "Take it off or shoot me."

"I prefer to shoot you."

"I prefer you both cut the shit." A new person appeared from the trees and made a beeline in our direction. Where the hell were these people coming from? "What the hell are you doing, Ramerez?"

"Boss told us to bring them in."

"Then why aren't they in yet?" The newcomer spat. "And for god sakes, take the dog off the rope. Put down your guns. They're not prisoners."

I waited until the others passed us by and I reached out and grabbed Sam's elbow. "Hey, wait. I uh—I want to talk to you."

"Nothing to talk about." She grumbled, shaking my hand away from her.

"Sam, I'm sorry ok."

"Yeah?" She asked, tuning to face me, arms crossed over her chest. "What are you sorry for?"

I thought about it and decided that I really didn't know. I knew she was mad at me, I knew it had something to do with me stepping up in front of her earlier. "For—"

"For being a fucking jackass! You—you said it wouldn't be different, Carl. That it would be the same, that I'd still have your back."

"You do, Sam. I don't—I don't understand why you're so upset."

"Because you're treating me like a girl!" She yelled at me, jabbing her finger into my chest. I glanced over her shoulder, the others had stopped short, the ones with guns looking impatient and ready to head in to wherever they were taking us. The one in charge, the one that came out treating them all like children, called out for us to hurry up. Sam ignored her. "You're acting like I'm helpless, Carl. Like I can't handle myself. Like I'm weak."

"I don't think your weak." I said ashamedly, admitting to myself that I was sort of treating her that way. "I don't. I know you're not."

"Then why did you jump in front of me earlier? Before this—" She motioned toward Beth and Daryl who had stopped a respectable distance away from us, but were near enough, I know, to hear what was being said. "Before I got shot and you found out—you never would have done that. I would have stood at your side, ready to fight or die, not shoved behind you like some fragile—porcelain doll."

I sighed and rubbed a hand through my hair, looking at the ground, at the sky, at the group, before finally meeting her eyes again. "I know. I'm sorry. I really am."

"I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to stop."

"I'll try ok." She studied me with narrowed eyes and shook her head.

"That's not good enough."

"Well, that's all I've got. I don't—I can't tell you it's gonna happen. I can just try."

"Dammit, Carl, why can't it just be the same as it was before."

"I don't know." I answered after a beat of silence. "I just—I don't know."

"Fine. But you better try pretty damn hard. Otherwise—this—partnership—it's not going work." She looked away from me and then back again, her eyes sad. "I'm not the weakest link, Carl, and I won't be treated like one."

She walked away and left me standing there, feeling like shit, looking like an idiot.

* * *

We weren't very far from the camp and I was starting to understand why the folks were so jumpy about us getting close to it. The house was huge, an old plantation style mansion guarded by barbed wire fences and spikes jutting out from the ground and not much else. There were a few people posted around the perimeter with guns but they were few and far between. They could probably handle walkers ok, but if a group of people came near wanting to fight for territory they might not be able to hold out.

After my conversation with Carl and the tense and silent walk through the woods I was ready to meet this fellow everyone referred to as "the boss". I wasn't one to be quick to jump into a fight, but I was sure as hell ready for something.

"The boss will talk to you one at a time and you'll be separated until then."

"Why?" Daryl asked, reading my mind.

"Make sure you all tell the same story before we invite you to stay."

"We don't want to stay." Carl insisted. "We told you we were just passing through."

"Yes, well—we'll see." Cupo leaned up against my thigh, butting the top of his against my hand until I scratched him behind the ears. It had been a long time since he'd been around so many living people and it was making him anxious. I'd found him chained to a tree, skinny and starving. It was apparent by the way he behaved when I came close that whoever had abandoned him hadn't been very good to him in the first place. It'd taken weeks of feeding and affection for him come to terms with the fact that I just wanted to love him and nothing else.

"We'll take the loud mouth first." Jennel, the one who'd been dragging Cupo around on the rope, pointed in my direction and I glared at her. Carl tensed at my side, but he didn't say anything as they led me away. "The dog can stay."

"The dog can go." I replied, pushing past her into the house and letting out a low whistle. "Nice digs."

"Thank you." The lady that greeted me was tall and skinny and had grayish colored hair that just barely brushed her shoulders. "It keeps up safe."

"And warm. Jeez." I was reluctant to show any excitement but the sight of the massive fireplace blazing in the room to my right had me virtually salivating. Cupo abandoned me and trotted over to preen himself in front of the blaze.

"Go ahead." Her voice was kind and sweet. Did that even exist anymore? I walked over to the fireplace anyway, holding my hands out and wiggling my fingers, sighing with pleasure. "What's your name?"

"What's yours?" I replied, instantly on my guard now that the questions had begun.

"Let's skip to an easy one then. Where are you headed?"

"Don't really know." I said shortly, giving her a shrug and turning my back to the fireplace, warming my rear, letting out another sigh.

"Is that right?"

"Probably so."

"You're not going to answer any of my questions. Is that right?"

"Probably so." The lady nodded, giving me a begrudging smile.

"Ok then. You should be served tea and sandwiches soon. I'll go and have a chat with one of your friends."

I was left alone for a long time, the tea never came, neither did the sandwiches. I called Cupo to follow me and we headed for the front door. I had a strange feeling that something was happening that I needed to know about. I heard laughter as I got closer and that struck me as odd. If we were invited to stay and make merry, wouldn't someone have come after me? I stepped out onto the porch and found my companions standing with the tall woman nearby. They were laughing and even embracing every so often. I had definitely missed something while I was hanging out inside by myself.

"Sam." Carl had this look on his face as if he'd just remembered I was here. He motioned me over and I went slowly, starting to feel suddenly very, very lonely. "Sam, this is Carol. She was with us at the prison."

"So your names Sam." She turned to me with a warm smile and my stomach tightened with the sickening feel of—jealousy I guess. The longer I stood there, listening to them all catch up and swap war stories of their time apart, the worse the feeling got. Slowly but surely, Carl was finding his people. When I promised him my help, I hadn't really thought it was going to happen. I'd assumed they were all dead or else forgotten about him. But then Daryl and Beth showed up—saying they'd been looking for him all along. And now Carol was saying the same thing. Said she'd heard about the prison and had been looking on her end as well.

They were all looking for him. For each other. They were a real family and they wanted to be back together. When Carl found them—he wouldn't need me anymore. Hell, he didn't need me now, not with his best old friend the leader of an actual fortified group and his other friend absolutely lethal with a bow. I was just a girl who could throw knives and had a dog trained to rip the throats out of Dead Ones.

We went in for dinner, Carl toasted to finding old friends, and I began planning the best way for me to slip away.


	4. Chapter 4

So apparently the mansion was loaded with food, and more food to spare. Dinner was a feast. Extravagant. A total waste. Didn't these people realize that it was the end of the world? Just because they'd found each other didn't mean they had to have a party and dance a jig.

_Oh, Sam, you're just jealous. _I told the voice in my head to shut up and excused myself from the crowed table. I found my coat hanging in the foyer and went out into the cold crisp air of the night. I stepped off the porch and for the first time in a long time—admired the night sky.

_"Pretty, aint they?" _I turned to my left and right, knowing I wouldn't find anybody nearby, but hoping that I would anyway. I sighed and nodded my head. "_Stars shine the prettiest light there is."_

"I thought you like the moon best." My eyes were stinging, I hated this part. It always came when I didn't want it to.

_"The moon is ok, but it's cold. Stars—they're made of fire. Makes you feel alive."_

"Nothing makes me feel alive." I whispered, wiping away the stray tears that I couldn't keep at bay.

_"Sing me to sleep, Sissy?"_ The voice was close now, right at my ear. I turned around and there was no one. "_Sing me to sleep, Sissy."_

I turned again and this time, I saw him. Just standing in front of me, small, fragile, unafraid. He smiled at me and held out his hand. Shaking, I reached for it, my fingers brushing the air around the image of my baby brother, never connecting with anything solid. I closed my eyes and the voice whispered in my ear again.

_"Will you sing to me, Sissy?"_

"Far away, this ship is taking me far away. Far away from the memories of the people who care if I live or die." My eyes opened involuntarily and I locked them on the eerily glowing blue of Aaron's as he stared at me, haunted me, filled my mind with things I didn't want to remember. "Starlight, I will be chasing the starlight until the end of my life. I don't know if it's worth it anymore."

My voice started out shaky, but it got stronger as I went, the words becoming clearer with each line—and with each line, he became more solid. He became more than just a glimmering shape, became more than just a see through figment of my imagination.

"Hold you in my arms. I just wanted to hold you in my arms." Aaron smiled, swayed toward me, his little arms reaching for me. "My life, you electrify my life. Let's conspire to ignite all the souls that would die just to feel alive."

"But I'll never let you go if you promised not to fade away. Never fade away." Tears flowed freely now, because he was there, standing right there under my fingertips, but too far away for me to touch. He was in another world. This thing that was visiting me—it wasn't Aaron. It was just another way for this burned out world to torture me. "Hold you in my arms. I just wanted to hold you in my arms."

_"It's ok." _He whispered, his face flickering. _"Everything is ok."_

I sobbed once, remembering the words—feeling them on my tongue, tasting the bitterness of his blood just as I had the day I held him to my chest and put a bullet in his brain. He was gone. I closed my eyes. "And I'll never let you go if you promise not to fade away. Never fade away."

"Sam." I jumped as a hand fell on my shoulder following the sound of my name. I turned around and Carl stood there in front of me. He gave me a once over, lingering on the tears streaking down my face, made a decision not to mention them. "You sing like shit."

I laughed shortly and shoved his shoulder. "Fucking jackass."

I walked over to the porch steps and sat down, not bothering to wipe my face, letting the tears dry there. Carl came and sat down next to me. "No seriously, you should never sing again."

"Yeah well, if you learned not to eavesdrop your ears wouldn't be bleeding." I joked back. He laughed and rubbed his ears, playing along.

"I don't that's just blood coming out—you've literally melted my brain, dude. It's nothing but mush in there."

"I don't think that's a recent development." He laughed and nodded.

"Touche." We just sat in silence for awhile, listening to the crickets and the trees, watching the clouds drift in and out of darkness as they passed over the moon. I could sense when his gaze shifted from the sky to me and I sat there for a long time, pretending I didn't notice. "Penny for your thoughts?"

"What's a penny worth these days?" I mused, pulling my feet up another step so that I could set my chin on my knees and flashing him a smile.

"Come on, Sam." He said, looking at me very seriously. "What's bugging you?"

I sighed heavily, I hadn't wanted to go into this now. But now was just as good a time as any wasn't it? "Look, you have—you have Daryl now. Beth—and Carol. This place. You'll find the others—no problem."

"What are you saying, Sam?" I could tell by the tone of his voice that he knew what I was saying, he just didn't believe it, and he definitely didn't like it.

"I'm saying—I think I'm going to leave." All that was heard for a long time was the sound of the crickets and the wind. I huddled deeper into my jacket and waited for him to respond.

"Why?" I winced at the tone of his voice. He sounded betrayed—alone. But why would he sound alone? He'd found part of his group—part of his family. He didn't even need me. Why couldn't he just let me leave without making me feel guilty about it.

"I just—I don't know. I'm used to being on my own and—it was ok just me and you. But here…" I trailed off and shrugged my shoulders. "I just need to go."

"But…I don't want you to leave." I sighed and stood up, wrapping my arms around my mid section and staring up at the sky.

"Carl, I can't just stay because you don't want me to go. I'm better on my own."

"That's bullshit. The world is run by the dead. No one is better off on their own." I heard him get to his feet and a moment later his fingers latched onto my elbow and he jerked me around.

"Carl—" I sighed and stared down at the ground, not being able to meet his eyes. "Just let me go."

"Fine." He finally said after a long moment of silence. "But if you leave I'm coming with you."

"What? N-no you are not!" I hissed, poking him in the chest. "You can' do that! You can't guilt trip me in to staying. You can't force my hand."

"I'm not forcing your hand at anything. We had an agreement. We're teammates remember. If you want to leave then you can leave." He paused, finally letting go of my arm and sticking his hands in his pockets. "But you're not going alone."

"Dammit, Carl." I growled, glaring at him. He shrugged and smirked at me, as if to say _take it or leave it._ "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you're my friend, Sam. I told you I'd have your back. You said you had mine…has that changed?" He waited for me to respond, but I didn't, just glared at him. "Has it changed?"

"No. It hasn't changed."

"Then it's settled." He turned around to go back inside and I called out to him.

"I can do this on my own, Carl. I made it before without you. I can make it alone." He ignored me and kept walking. I saw red. My shoe flew through the air and hit him in the back. He paused, gave me a cocky look over his shoulder, and then resumed his progress toward the front door. I stomped over to him and shoved him as hard as I could. "I can make it on my own. You're not my boss. No one died and made you king of the fucking county."

He laughed at me and turned around. "It's king of the castle, Sam. King of the…" He trailed off, his eyes widening suddenly. "Holy shit, Sam." He grabbed my face, this really crazed and happy look in his eyes. "You're a fucking genius."

He released me and ran to the house, leaving me standing there staring after him like an idiot. Somehow, I didn't take what he said as a compliment, probably because I was pissed that he'd walked away from our conversation like something had actually been decided. Nothing was figured out. He wasn't going with me. Whether that meant sneaking out in the middle of the night with little or no supplies—Carl Grimes was not going with me.

I wasn't his responsibility.

And he damn sure was not mine.

* * *

I yelled up the stairs until Carol appeared, rubbing her eyes and looking at me like I was a nut job. What time was it? Did it matter? No body cared about time anymore.

"It's three in the morning." Carol, apparently, cared about time. "What's going on?"

"Grab Daryl—"

"Daryl is here." Daryl ambled in from the back of the house, carrying his bow, looking around for the fire. I gave them both an apologetic smile, but I wasn't sorry. Not really.

"In the living room. Carol, get Beth." We gathered around the fireplace, my friends in various states of wakefulness, and Sam finally joined us from outside. I grinned around the circle. "Dad's in King County."

"King…County?" Beth's question was staggered by a yawn, Carol copied her shortly.

"Yeah." I said excitedly, not understanding how I hadn't figured it out before. "Home."

"You sure about this, brother?" Daryl asked, a note of warning in his voice, reminding me that it could be another wild goose chase, that it was best not to get my hopes up. I'd known they wouldn't get it, that they wouldn't be as excited and sure as I was that we were only six hundred miles away from finding my missing dad.

"I never thought about it before, but Sam made me realize—that's the only place I haven't looked and neither have you guys. I'm leaving in the morning."

"You're leaving in the morning?" Carol sputtered incredulously. "Just like that, no discussion, no plans?"

"I have a plan." I stated simply.

"Well, we need to be in on it." Beth didn't look the least bit tired now. She looked worried. She looked afraid.

"No you don't. Because you're not coming." Beth looked at Carol, who looked at Daryl, who shrugged his shoulders and looked at me to continue. "I'm doing this alone."

Sam snorted from her place in the corner she'd relegated herself to. I looked over at her with raised eyebrows. She rolled her eyes. "No one makes it alone out there. Right, Carl?"

I grinned at her and shrugged. "You still got my back, Sam?" Her blue eyes narrowed and then widened with realization. She grinned at me and gave a quick nod. I turned back to the others. None of them looked pleased. "What?"

"You want us to just let you two, both under the age of sixteen, walk out of this camp, alone, and trek across the state to find your dad. Who, might I add, might not even be where you think he is?" Beth laughed mirthlessly. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

"We made it alone before." I said, stealing words from Sam's argument earlier. "We can make it again."

"I don't think so, Carl." Daryl spoke up, giving me a look that said he was sorry for saying it. "It doesn't sound like a very well thought out plan."

"Yeah, well, I wasn't asking your permission." I glared at him fiercely, disappointed to say the least. I thought he'd be on my side. But he was just looking at me like everyone else usually did—like I was a kid. "I was just giving you a heads up."

The silence was heavy, tension radiated off of everyone in the room, and my breathing grew shallow. Daryl sighed and reached out to me, "Carl—you're just a k—"

"Go to hell." I mumbled, shoving past his outstretched hand. "You can all go to hell."

* * *

Sixteen days passed.

Sam and I spent a lot of time planning, swiping little things here and there and hiding them away in our backpacks under her bed. We made eyes at the cars lined up out back, but she didn't think we had a shot at getting gas into one of them without someone realizing what we were doing.

We sat together one night on the back porch, marking the route we would take on the map. Daryl came over and Sam quickly hid it up her shirt and zipped her jacket over it.

"I need to talk to Carl." Sam looked at me questioningly and I nodded at her. When we were alone he pulled a bottle out of his jacket and handed it to me. I stared at the label and then looked at him questioningly. "Don't look at me like that. I was thirteen when I had my first drink. You're three years past that now."

"Shit." I said with a wry grin. "I was hoping no one would remember."

"Funny thing about women, little brother." He said, taking the bottle I had yet to drink from out of my hands and twisting the top off and taking a long swig of his own. "They remember everythin."

When the bottle was back in my hands I just stared at it for a while and then shook my head and handed it back to him. "Thanks, but—"

"You want to wait for you dad. I get it." He took a last drink, capped it, and handed it back to me. "Take it with you."

"W-what?" I cursed myself for stammering, it was a dead give away.

"Don't bullshit me, Carl. I know you two are planning on leaving." I sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, we have been. We were gonna do it next week—after we get a few more things stocked up."

"You're leaving tonight." He said, pulling a set of keys from his pocket and holding them out to me. I took them slowly, not fully understanding. "Got half a tank and an empty can in the back. I left you an extra gun under the front seat and some bullets."

"T-thanks, Daryl." He put his hand on my shoulder and nodded once.

"Look, man, I don't know why you want to do this on your own, but you're not a kid anymore. I'm sorry I treated you like one. You've handled a lot of tough shit. I know you can handle this." We both stood up and I gave him a quick, man type of hug, slapping his back a few times, trying to act like I was tough.

"I'm scared." I admitted, looking him right in the eye.

"It's good that you're scared. It makes you smart." I nodded and he clapped a hand heavily on my shoulder. "There's no shame in that."

"But—"

"What are you scared of, Carl?" I shrugged and looked down, he nudged my chin with his fist, making me meet his eyes again. "What are you scared of? Is it for yourself?"

I shook my head. "I'm scared I won't find him. I'm scared I'll let Sam—that she'll get hurt."

He tapped his finger against my temple. "Keep that fear right here. Where you can control it. Remember what you're scared for. Remember who you're trying to protect." He touched his finger to my heart. "Once it gets here—it's harder then."

"How do I stop it from getting there?"

Daryl looked me in the eye and shook his head, giving a short laugh and hanging his arm loosely around my shoulders. "You figure that out—you let me know."

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you all so much for the reviews! I'm glad you are all interested in the story and I hope I can continue to keep you entertained. Carl is now tagged so that the story is easy to locate and I hope I've gotten a handle on rushing the story line :) thanks for the tips and I hope the looooong wait for February isn't too agonizing for everybody.**

**Also, I hope the whole sequence with Sam in italics wasn't too confusing. Basically she was talking to a version of her little brother, Aaron. More explanation about that will be given later in the story.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey, Beth?" The blonde looked up at me from the carrots she was chopping.

"Hey, Sam." She replied with a friendly smile.

"Did you ever—used to bake any?" She raised an eyebrow at my question and I tucked my bangs behind my ear, feeling stupid and shy. We'd spent some time together during our travels, but never without Carl and before this—well girls were never very nice to me because I always dressed different and I didn't like to talk very much. "You know—before the Dead Ones?"

"Yeah, with my mom sometimes. Why?" I pulled a box from behind my back and sat it on the counter in front of her. She smiled at me happily.

"I found this, last week when we went on that run and—I thought Carl might like it." I shrugged, messed with my hair some more, told myself to man up and stop acting so skittish. "I don't have any frosting or anything."

"We've got some peanut butter." Beth said grabbing bowl and things from the cabinets. "And sugar. We can make some homemade."

"We?" I shook my head and laughed. "I-I can't cook that well. That's why I'm giving it to you."

"No time like today to learn." She smiled at me again and motioned for me to come over to where she was standing. "That's what my daddy used to say."

"Was he smart?" I asked unsurely, not wanting to screw up the only cake we had by trying to learn how fix one. When would I ever need to know how to make a cake after this anyhow? She laughed and nodded.

"The smartest man I ever knew."

"Ok, then. Can't be that hard." I shrugged at her and then smiled to myself. "Piece of cake."

* * *

"It looks defective." I grumbled, staring at the lopsided fruit of my efforts.

"It looks pretty good for your first one. My first one collapsed in the middle and tasted a lot like sour milk." I wrinkled my nose at Beth.

"How did you manage that?"

"I used buttermilk by accident." We shared a laugh and set the cake in the fridge. It wasn't good for keeping things cold, but it kept insects away, not to mention kids and house occupants with sticky fingers looking for a snack. The oven was connected to a generator and was used only ever other day, unless the camp had a big enough gas supply, which constituted more usage. Carl strolled in with Daryl and motioned for me to join him outside. I wiped my hands on a towel, thanked Beth for her help, and followed him out.

It was cold outside and I instantly regretted not grabbing my jacket. I crossed my arms over my chest to conserve body heat and followed after Carl. He led me away from the house and all the way down past the first row of fences. When he finally stopped and turned toward me I smiled widely at him.

"So hap—"

"We're leaving in fifteen minutes." He stated shortly, the tone in his voice indicating there was no discussing the statement.

"But—but—" I thought about the cake sitting in the fridge and was determined that I was not leaving until he blew out the damn candles. "I'm hungry."

"Seriously?" His eyebrows rose and he squinted at me. "We've been waiting for our chance—this is it."

"We don't even have all of the supplies we need. How are we—"

"Daryl set us up with a car, some gas, and a second gun. We won't be on foot now so we can stop for supplies on the way."

"But—but—" I couldn't think of anything to get him to stay. Damn Daryl for deciding to help us tonight of all nights. "I want to eat dinner first."

"Are you serious?" He demanded again. "Come on, Sam."

"Don't you want to have one last night with everyone?" I pleaded. "You never know what can—"

"Nothing is going to happen. And besides—" He pointed his finger in my face and shook it. "You don't even like them."

"I never said—"

"Are you cold?" He suddenly asked, cutting me off for the millionth time.

"What?" I realized that I was shuddering so hard that my teeth were chattering. "Oh I—"

"Here." He pulled his pullover off and thrust it toward me.

"Will you stop interrupting me?" I grumbled, pulling the sweater over my head and adding a begrudging thank you.

"Maybe you didn't say you didn't like them. But you _did_ say you didn't like being _with _them.

"Well—they grew on me." He glared at me. I glared at him. Finally he threw his hands up in defeat.

"Fine. We'll stay for dinner. But have your stuff ready. We are leaving before sunrise."

Conversation over, we just sort of stood there, listening to our surroundings, watching our breath form clouds of white in the cold Georgia air. After a while had passed in quiet I shoved his shoulder and grinned at him. "So you're a year older today, loser. How's it feel?"

He shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Sixteen feels a lot like fifteen did. Wish everybody wouldn't make a big deal about it."

I thought about the cake and felt guilty, but pushed the thoughts aside. "It's your birthday. It's supposed to be a big deal."

"How come I don't know yours then?"

"Because you never asked."

"Hey, Sam?" He asked, nudging me with his elbow. "When's your birthday?"

"Doesn't matter." I teased, smiling at him coyly. "I don't like to make a big deal about it."

"No fair." He whined. I giggled and put my hands up like, _iunno whachoo talkin bout._ Carl got this wicked gleam in his eyes and the position of my hands changed into one of defense.

"Carl—what are you doing?" He stalked toward me slowly and I backed away in the same fashion.

"Oh, nothing." He said menacingly. "Nothing at all."

"Carl." I stated his name warningly, shuffling my feet faster. "You better not—"

"Better not what?"

"Do whatever it is what you're thinking about doing."

"You better run then, Sam." He lurched toward me and I yelped in surprise, stumbling my way far enough back to turn around and run. He chased me, chuckling softly and teasing that I wasn't fast enough. He was right. It didn't take him long to catch me and when he did he pinned me to the ground and started tickling me.

"Stop! Stah-ha-ha-hop!" I squealed through my involuntary laughter. Carl grinned at me and shook his head.

"When's your birthday, Sam?" I shook my head, trying to swing my arm around and connect my fist with his face. "Just tell me and I'll stop."

"Fine! Fine! Stop and I—I—I'll tell you!" His fingers slowed their torture, but he didn't stop until I blurted out my birthday. "April 17th! I told you, now stop!"

He lifted his hands away and grinned down at me happily. "There..that wasn't so hard was it?"

"Fucking jackass." I whined, punching him in the stomach. He laughed and grabbed my wrists, using them to pull me up into a sitting position. He still had the barest hint of a smile on his lips, but his eyes were serious and intense as they met mine. This really long, slightly awkward moment passed between us and then Carl suddenly cleared his throat and jumped to his feet, using his grip on my wrists to pull me to mine. I bit my lip and he cleared his throat again.

"So you wanted dinner." He stated, releasing me and taking an unnecessarily large step back. "Let's go see what they've got for us."

* * *

So the thing with Sam earlier—it was pretty weird. Everytime I looked at her sitting across from me at the dinner table I felt stupider about it. Tickling her had seemed like a good idea at the time—and it turned out ok. It felt like a friend thing to do. But then it got awkward what with me staring at her mouth and wondering if it was as soft as it looked. Yesterday it hadn't really occurred to me at all that Sam was a girl and I was a guy—but now it was the only thing I could even hear going on in my head.

Wow, she's pretty."

Shut up.

But no—she's really pretty.

But really—shut up.

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, Dear Carl! Happy birthday to you!" A cake with a single candle was set on the table in front of me and I was sort of astonished.

"How did—"

"It was Sam's idea." Beth said cheerfully. I glanced at Sam who had her head down, hiding her face behind her hair.

"Thanks, Sam." I said softly. She shrugged and gave me a lopsided smile, meeting my eyes for the first time since we came in.

"Whatever. Blow out your candle so we can eat the damn thing." I leaned forward to do what I was told only to have Daryl's hand shoved in my face and pushed so forcefully in the opposite direction that my chair actually slid backwards.

"Make a wish first, little brother." He said with a laugh. I mumbled a curse at him under my breath and then thought what I would want if wishes came true. I closed my eyes and blew the candle out. When I opened them again they landed on Sam. She blushed and then rolled her eyes at me before pushing away from the table and leaving the room.

"Save me a piece." I told Carol, who was cutting the cake, and ran after her. She was sitting by the fireplace with Cupo, scratching his belly and muttering to him under her breath. I leaned against the doorjamb and whistled lowly. The dog flipped onto his feet and ran over to me. Sam glared, she hated when he ditched her for me. "We can wait until tomorrow night to leave. If you want."

She shook her head. "We can go tonight. It's your decision."

I smirked at her, making my way over to sit next to her on the rug. "What happened to "Jeez, Carl, you're not king of the county."

She laughed and elbowed me. "Whatever. I just mean—it's your dad. If you want to go now—let's go now. I just wanted some cake."

"You didn't even eat any before running off to act all sullen." She glared at me.

"What would I have to be sullen about?"

"Losing your dignity and pride." She snorted in response. "You know—cause of the tickling thing."

"Whatever, Carl. Let's go get c-"

"Ahhhhhh!" We looked at each other and then jumped to our feet, following the sound of the scream outside.

"Walkers!" Jennel screamed from her post. "Left perimeter!"

We stopped at the gun shed and then followed the others to the far side of the yard.

"What happened? Who screamed?" I called out, clicking on a flashlight and scanning the yard for any that got past the barricades.

"I don't know! I just looked up and saw them." We started picking off the Dead Ones, doing our best to stab which ones we could so we wouldn't draw any more in with gunfire.

"Heeelp! Heeelp!"

"I'm going." Sam said, and then took off into the dark.

"Sam! Wait. Shit!" I tried to go after her, but Jennel screamed again, pinned down by a walker. I shot it in the head and took out another closing in on the second postman, Levi. The others from inside the house were reaching us in twos and threes, Sam had been gone for eight minutes by the time I broke off to look for her.

"Where the hell are you, Sam." I hissed into the night. There wasn't a sound in answer, not even the snapping of a twig or the rustle of leaves.

"Carl!" My name burst out of the silence and I followed it deeper into the trees. There she was, knives flinging through the air, defending a huddle of small bodies at her back. "Help me."

Daryl burst through the trees behind me, Beth too, and Levi. We closed ranks around the children and picked off the walkers one by one. I turned to Sam. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine."

"You're stupid is what you are." I replied, turning away from her in anger.

"Excuse me, just saved some kids, thanks for noticing."

"You shouldn't have run off by yourself."

"You shouldn't have been given a mouth to stuff your foot into, but I guess even God makes mistakes." She stomped away, leaving me and the other two with the kids.

"Hey, it's ok." Beth said, stroking the blonde hair of one of the three huddled together. "You're safe now."

"I told you they'd be here." I stumbled backward as the girl lifted her face, a triumphant smile plastered on it. "Didn't I tell you?"

"Mica?" Carol was there now, of course. The girl ran into her arms, followed by a little boy, who I'd never met before. "Oh my god! You're alive!"

* * *

The kids were fed and in bed and we were all gathered in the living room. Carol filled us in on what she'd learned from them. Tyrece had gotten them out of the prison and kept them safe and alive. They'd been traveling this direction for a couple of weeks, they'd run into Craig—one of our scouts—and he'd been leading them to camp when the walkers came out of no where. Lizzy was the first to get bitten. Ty tried to save her but he got surrounded. Then Craig. The kids had started running and then Sam came out of nowhere and started killing things.

"Did they—did they say anything about Judith?" I asked, a small knot of hope forming in my gut. "They were supposed to get her on the bus, did they say—"

"I didn't ask them tonight. We will talk to them more in the morning."

"But—they were in charge of her. Why didn't—"

"We'll ask them more in the morning, Carl. They were tired and scared tonight. I couldn't just—"

"You could have just!" I yelled, my heart throbbing painfully. "She was a nine month old baby! They shouldn't have fucking left her!"

"I know you're hurting, Carl—"

"You don't know anything." I said, cutting her off and stepping up into her face.

"Why don't you get some air, Carl." Daryl got up off the sofa and wrapped his arm around Carol's shoulders. I held my hands up and backed away.

"You got it." Sam's eyes met mine across the room and she nodded before slipping out to grab our bags from her room. I signaled to Cupo to follow me and I went out back to find the car. Sam came around the side of the house and climbed into the passenger seat, tossing the backpacks into the back with Cupo. He scratched the window and whined until Sam leaned around the seat to roll it down a little.

I started the car and drove slowly down the back driveway, which I assumed was once used as a servant's entrance. I left the headlights off until we were out of sight of the house. Sam stuffed a tape into the cassette player and sighed when Billy Joel crackled to life over the speakers.

"We've got to find some new tunes. Fast." She turned the sound down and turned the heater up. I pulled out onto the highway and picked up speed. "You ever driven a car before?"

"Sure I have." The car swerved to the right as I took my eyes off the road to look at her. She laughed and punched me in the arm. I grinned at her and straightened the car out.

"I'm gonna take a nap. Try not to kill us ok."

"Piece of cake."

She snorted and pulled the hood of the pullover I'd given her earlier over her head as she curled her legs up in the middle of the seat and leaned her head against the window. "Shut up and drive, Grimes.


	6. Chapter 6

"Sam. Hey, Sam, wake up." I reached across the front seat and shook her until she woke up. She sat up straight and looked around wide eyed.

"What is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothin. I'm tired. You want to drive?" I was already pulling the car over, not giving her a chance to deny me.

"I don't—I've never driven before." She stuttered, looking panicked.

"It's not hard. Not like any one else is going to be on the road." I teased before getting out of the car. Sam followed suit reluctantly and we surveyed our surroundings. I'd driven all night, trying to put some distance between the plantation and us. The sun had risen a few hours earlier and I'd kept going—driving until the blurriness at the edge of my vision moved farther and farther inward and I could hardly keep my eyes open.

"My bum hurts." Sam said, rubbing her rear and then stretching her arms over her head. "Lets walk around a bit—maybe find some meat for breakfast."

Cupo scratched at the back window and barked, indicating that he was all for this idea of a walk. I opened the door and he bounded out, running in circles, rolling over and over in the grass and then disappearing into the trees to do his business. Sam followed after him, drawing her knives as she went. I took my gun from its holster and surveyed the road again. I had a bad feeling in my gut, but I told myself to ignore it.

"Fifteen minutes." I promised myself, and then went to find Sam.

* * *

"You think it's possible for us to ever get back to where we were?"

"What do you mean?" We'd walked too far out looking for Cupo, who'd gotten the scent of a rabbit and ran off. We were on our way back now, but we'd been gone longer than the fifteen minutes I'd promised myself.

"You know—kill all the Dead Ones—take back civilization." She climbed over a fallen tree, the rabbit hanging over her shoulder, her cheeks rosy red and chapped from the cold air blowing against them.

"I don't know—maybe. It's not the Dead Ones I really think would be the problem. It's the living ones who can't get along. We'd never figure out who would be in charge." Sam nodded thoughtfully at this and then grinned and climbed up onto a pile of rocks and did the Hercules pose.

"Samaya Vanderwood of course!" She scoffed, holding her head high and looking down her nose at me. I laughed and climbed up on the rocks with her, putting my hands on my hips.

"Aaaand—" I plied, waiting for her to include me.

"And her trusty sidekick Carl!"

"King Carl…of the County." We both laughed and strutted around the woods, acting like kids for once. Cupo barked and pranced around our feet, wanting to be a part of the game. Sam smiled at me breathlessly.

"You know—if we do ever get back—the first thing I'd want to see established is a Burger King." We started back to the car, going back and forth about what should be reinvented and what should be damned to hell with the walkers. Standardized tests and chores were among the denied things and naps, Reese cups, and PlayStation games were at the top of the group of things we'd bring back.

We stepped out of the tree line and Sam gasped. I followed her line of vision to the car and drew my weapon. A man was digging through the bags we had in the back seat, another was trying to hotwire the car.

"Hey, asshole." I hollered, the one in the front jumped out, the gun Daryl had stashed there gripped in his hands. "That's mine."

"We found it first." The guy from the backseat pulled a gun out from around his back and aimed it at us. Cupo growled menacingly, taking a protective stance in front of Sam.

"No, you're mistaken." I said, re-aiming my gun between the second guy's eyes. The gun from the front wasn't loaded, and the box of bullets were in the glove box, which was locked—the only smart thing I'd done on this trip apparently. I never should have left the car. "We left it here."

The two men shared a look and then both of them looked at Sam. My stomach rolled in disgust because I knew exactly what was going through their minds. "Tell you what kid, you let us have the girl and—"

"Tell you what, redneck pig." Sam spat, taking a step forward and spinning her knives around in her hands. She was definitely pissed. "You keep your shitty little eyes off of me and I'll let you leave here with them."

The men laughed and guffawed, Cupo growled, Sam did the same. "You don't want my eyes on you sweetheart? You wanna have a feel of another part of my anatomy instead?"

Sam flicked the knife and it embedded itself in the man's thigh, inches from his groin. He howled and the gun went off. I knocked Sam to the ground and fired a shot of my own. He hit the pavement like a bag of cement and the second guy fired his gun. Dammit. So he'd found the bullets. The burn of hot metal slammed through me and I clenched my teeth to keep from howling in pain. The guy ducked behind the car and Sam dragged me backwards off the pavement and into the high grass on the roadside.

"We can't let him take the car." I hissed through my teeth, grabbing the bottom of my jacket and pulling it upward to staunch the flow of blood from the side of my head. My left ear throbbed painfully and I could barely make out Sam's words over the ringing in my head. I comprehended that she wanted me to hand her the gun, mostly by reading her lips. "You've never used one, Sam."

"And you just nearly got your face shot off." She griped back, peeling the gun from my hand. "Now stay here and shut up."

I hated hiding in the bushes while she went out there and risked her life, but I didn't have much choice. Especially since when I tried to stand up my head spun so fast I land right back on my ass. I heard a slew of curses, a scuffle, and two gunshots. I got to my knees and crawled out of the grass, toward the road. I only saw one set of legs from under the car, but I couldn't tell whose they were.

"Sam?" I called out once and when she didn't answer, I called out again.

"I'm here." She appeared around the other side of the car, blood splattered down her front. When she got closer to me I deduced that it didn't just belong to the man she'd shot. There was a gash running from just beneath her eye to the corner of her upper lip. I reached up to touch it and she shook my hand away. "It's fine. Lucky stick is all."

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine. Come on, we've got to move. All that racket probably sent some walkers our way." She helped me to my feet and got Cupo loaded up into the car. After searching the body of the dead guys, retrieving her knife and the guns she got into the drivers seat.

"You ok to drive?"

"You sure as hell can't." I handed her the keys and she started the car. "Put your seatbelt on."

"Seriously?" I laughed and she gave me a stern look. I chuckled again, but did as she said.

"I didn't keep you alive this long just kill you in a car crash."

"So then don't crash." She gripped the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turned white and eased the car up the road.

"I'll do what I can."

* * *

It took us a couple of hours to find a place to stop and rest. Sam pulled the car around the back of an empty barn and we climbed up into the hayloft. She sat cross-legged in front of me and cleaned the gunshot wound to my ear.

"Can you hear out of it?"

"No, it's like a tunnel—everything just sounds like air sucking into a vacuum." Sam sighed and taped some gauze to cover what was left of my ear. "It'll be fine. You're turn."

She scooted closer until our knees were touching and turned her injured cheek toward me. I poured clean water into the bowl she'd used for my ear and dipped the shredded shirt into it. She winced when I touched it to her face. "Sorry."

"It's ok." She said, through gritted teeth. The cut looked pretty deep, probably needed stitches, but there was no way I could do anything about it. For one, we didn't have the supplies, and for two—I sure as hell had no idea how to do something like that. "Today pretty much sucked."

"Yeah. Not the worst we've had though." I said, smearing alcohol over her cheek and wincing when she hissed in pain.

"We killed two people, Carl. People—not walkers." I noticed her hands were shaking and stopped what I was doing to grab them.

"We did what we had to do, Sam." I said, not letting myself feel guilty about what happened. "They were taking our stuff. They would have killed us."

"I guess."

"Hey." I tilted my head down so that I could meet her down cast eyes. "Don't you feel sorry. Not over a couple of douchebags that would of—if they'd killed me and not you—"

"I get it, Carl." She jerked her hands out of mine and tried to get up. I wrapped my fingers around her wrist and tugged her down again.

"Hey, look at me." When she did her eyes were glimmering with tears. I sighed and cupped the uninjured part of her face in my hand. "They hurt you, Sam. They would have done worse. It was us or them."

"I know. I just—" She trailed off and dropped her head, refusing to meet my eyes even though I made my best effort to get her to without force. "That's six."

"Six…?"

"Six people. I can't even count it on one hand anymore."

"That doesn't make you a bad person, Sam. We do what we have to, to survive." My hand was still on her face, my thumb gently caressing her cheek. I started to pull it away but she covered it with her own, much smaller hand, and held it there, leaning into it.

"What's your number?" She whispered, her voice low and raspy with pain.

"I don't—" I trailed off, feeling the weight of the life I'd been leading the past three years pressing down on my shoulders. "I stopped counting at nine."

A moment of silence passed and I thought about the old world. The number of people from that world who were dead—the number of people who were kind of dead—and the number of people that had to murder or be murdered instead. Sam chuckled quietly and pulled me out of my depressing thoughts.

"What?" I prodded and she shook her head.

"Isn't it sad that the first time I ask a guy for his number it's to compare our capital murder charges and not just to give him a telephone call?

* * *

"Take a left. Take a left here." Carl pointed to a dirt road—nearly invisible due to the over grown trees. We'd stayed the night at the old barn, sleeping sitting up, back-to-back like we did those nights spent in the woods without shelter. Cupo woke us up twice with a short bark, but when we patrolled the ground below we came up with nothing.

We left it behind hours ago, making our way onto an interstate partially jammed up with broken down cars. We stopped to pilfer through the mess, looking for gas, unruined food, whatever we could grab hold of, but we didn't linger long.

"What is this place?" I asked as we crested a hill and two a story white house came into view a mile up the narrow dirt road.

"We lived here for awhile—my group. This was Beth's house." I parked the car a few feet from the house so that we could turn around in a hurry if need be and then we sat there—staring in through the partially busted out windows.

"What happened here?"

"Same thing that happens everywhere—it got overrun." Carl shrugged and looked around the yard. "Don't see any walkers."

"That doesn't mean they aren't there." I countered. Carl didn't acknowledge that I'd spoken, he climbed out of the car, weapon drawn and headed toward the house. Cupo bounded over the seat and out of his open door. I grabbed the other gun and followed after him. "Carl."

He stopped just short of the front steps when I hissed his name and waited for me. "If we stay close and stay sharp we'll be ok."

"How long has it been since you've been here?"

"A year…getting close to two."

"Somebody could have already found this place." I looked up at the house and shuddered. "They could be hiding in there waiting for us.

"Doesn't matter. We'll handle it." He stated simply. "There's some stuff I need to look for."

"Carl, that doesn't make any sense. We shouldn't be here." I hissed, grabbing his arm when he tried to walk away, a nasty feeling in my stomach—feeling like we were being watched. I looked around behind us—rotted bodies of fallen dead ones littered the ground. "What could you possibly—"

"Just stuff, Sam. Things. Don't be a pussy." He smirked at me, and shook my hand off. "In and out. Piece of cake."

I let him get a few steps without me and then followed him with a sigh. The house was empty. No dead ones. No people. Just stale and musty, abandoned and unused. Carl disappeared up the stairs and I ran after him, tripping over my own feet and banging my knee up on the top step.

"Shit." Carl came out of the bedroom and sat next to me, leaning against the wall, running his fingers over a leather bound book in his hand. "We wasted all that gas to drive all the way out here and get a book?"

"It's not a book." He flipped the cover open and ran his fingers over the cellophane covered pages inside. "It's—it's my whole life."

I crawled over and sat next to him, catching glimpses of his child hood and smiling snapshots of two people I assumed were his parents. He ran his finger over the image of a younger version of himself with his arm thrown around a man with curly brown hair and a wide set nose.

"Whose that?"

"That's the first man I ever killed." We sat for a few hours, he told me the story of finding this place, his families attempt to settle here, and the night they lost Shane and the farm all at once.

I left him to his memories and went into the room. The closet was full of clothes; the dresser was neatly stacked with the same. I traced my finger through the layer of dust on the top and felt a pain in my stomach. It looked like someone had gone out to dinner, or maybe for some shopping, and just never came back. Carl's footsteps sounded behind me and he ran his hands through the clothes in the closet, even stepped in close and took a deep breath through his nose. I doubted they still smelled like her—like his mom.

He turned to me and cleared his throat. "There's a well out back. I'll get some water and we can clean up. You should—you should take some of the clothes. They'll probably fit you."

"Are you sure? I don't want to—" I trailed off, didn't want to what? Invade his dead mothers privacy by going through her unused things?

"It's ok. She—they're just sitting here." He left me alone then and I fingered through the different clothes, only allowing myself to take two outfits. Even though he gave me permission, I felt guilty coming out of the bathroom in the jeans and flannel shirt I'd put on. I eyed him warily, hoping to find no hurt lingering in his eyes. He seemed to be fine. He'd even found some clean clothes of his own—I assumed from his fathers things or maybe one of the other room in the house.

We didn't linger in the house after that.

"You were right." I said softly when we'd gone back to the car, him in the drivers seat.

"About what?"

"Your mom." The silence thickened, became painful somehow. "She was so pretty it made you hurt inside."

He swallowed hard and nodded, looking quickly away from me. I didn't think about it—just reached over and grabbed his hand. After a few minutes he shook it off and started the car. It was my turn to look away, hiding my face so he wouldn't see my trembling lips. I wasn't even sure why I wanted to cry. Just that I all of a sudden did.

His hand touched mine, turned it over so that it rested palm up on the seat between us. I turned my face back to his and he smiled at me sadly. I gave him the same sort of smile.

He linked our fingers together and turned the car around. I watched the house grow smaller and smaller in the mirror, thinking it would be a beautiful place to settle down—if the world ever got back to the way it was before.

**Author's Note:**

**Please tell me someone caught my "stuff and things" tribute ;)**

**I'm so thankful for the reads, reviews, follows, and favorites. I'd write the story without them, but it's always nice to hear insight and opinions of readers and know that someone besides me is enjoying the journey!**


	7. Chapter 7

"What is that?" Carl murmured sleepily from beside me, sitting up for the first time in hours and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. I flipped my book closed and tried to stuff it away, but he snatched it from my fingers and smiled at me wickedly. "Are you writing in your diary, Sam?"

"No! Give it back!"

"What are you saying about me? That I'm devilishly handsome and so charming it pains your very soul?"

"Nothing quite so vomit inducing." I growled back, whacking him on the back of the head and snatching the composition book out of his hands while the pain distracted him.

"Jeez. You don't have to be so mean." He whined, then went back to looking satisfied with himself for catching me in the act of something so embarrassing as writing my feelings down in a spiral notebook. "So what were you gushing about? Cute zombie Ned you met last Friday at the Piggly-Wiggly? How you sure wish he'd kiss you, but his breath is something fierce to reckon with and you just are at wits end on teaching him the concept of floss and toothpaste."

"Ugh, shut up. It's not even a diary." I tossed it in his lap with a bit of trepidation, thinking maybe it wasn't a diary, but he'd still probably laugh at me. He flipped the book open and after a beat of silence he licked his lips and read aloud.

"It's a very Greek idea, and a very profound one. Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful, to souls like the Greeks or our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves?"

"To sing, to scream, to dance barefoot in the woods in the dead of night, with no more awareness of mortality than an animal. These are powerful mysteries. The bellowing of bulls. Springs of honey bubbling from the ground. If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face; let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn." I finished aloud after he'd trailed off. He sat, open mouthed, staring blankly into the night.

"Did—did you write that."

"God no." I laughed, trying to play off that I wasn't on the verge of emotional collapse. "Donna Tartt."

"Um—should I know her?" Carl said dumbly, smiling sheepishly when I laughed at him.

"No, she's a novelist. The Secret History." I shrugged and fiddled with the zipper on my jacket. "It's one of my favorites."

"You memorized that whole thing?"

"I memorize a lot of things. I told you before—I liked to read a lot." I watched nervously as he flipped back a few pages and read another excerpt.

"Do you know what happens when you hurt people? When you hurt people, they begin to love you less. That's what careless words do. They make people love you a little less."

"The God of Small Things." I replied, messing with my zipper again. "Something Roy. I don't know."

"So you just write what you remember?"

"I write what I feel and most of the time, it's something somebody else has felt first." We sat in silence, Carl flipping through the notebook of plagiarized thoughts I could never be smart enough or brave enough or anything enough to come up with on my own, me staring at the glowing remnants of our fire and wondering about the state of things.

"You know, Sam—" He said, never taking his eyes off the scribbled pages. "It sucks that a girl like you has to have such a fucked up—."

"What kind of girl do you think I am?"

"A different kind. A special one." He shrugged and shook his head, his eyes looking sad. "Special people deserve special lives. Special things to fall in love with and believe in. The stuff in here—these words you love so much—they're just—it's probably the most unfair thing about this mess of an existence we've been reduced to. You can't know these things. You can't experience them. All you get to do is read a thing in a book and hope it's true and hope it's worth wanting and hope—" He laughed and shook his head, flipping the notebook closed and tossing it at me. "Hope. Funny word right? I don't know what I'm saying, Sam. Your turn to sleep."

For awhile we didn't talk. I climbed into my sleeping bag, held my notebook against my chest, stared at the dirt and then stared at Carl. I sat up and glared at him. "I'm no different than you." He just looked at me, still with sad eyes, so I continued.

"No. You think—you think I'm some special type of person? Well I'm not. I'm not special. I'm not different. That isn't real here—in this place. I exist. Just like you. And where do you come off—a sixteen year old trying to be fucking—philosophical or Tolstoy or some shit—spouting words in the night about hope and believing in things—that's bullshit."

Silence. Silence. Silence. "You know what I believe in—I believe in—in—I don't believe in anything outside of this—right here." I motioned around our temporary resting spot and then pointed at him. "I believe in you and me having each others back and even then—one of us is probably going to die anyway. One of us is probably going to end up alone. This stuff—this shit in the notebook—I write it down so that I can look at it and have tangible proof—real evidence that the world before this one—it was just as shitty. People still fucking hated each other. God still spit us the fuck out and left us to be terrified and quivering and consumed."

Silence. Silence. Silence. "I wasn't special before—just a weak, twelve year old kid whose mom didn't care enough to stick around and her daddy liked to prove he was bigger and stronger and in control. Well at least here, at least now in this world, I'm in control—I'm bigger. I'm stronger. Maybe I come out fucked up at the end of it all—but I come out alive."

Silence. Silence. Silence.

"Fuck you, Carl."

"Fuck you too, Sam." He replied dryly. He didn't get mad. He didn't get irrational. He just accepted that I was—and he smirked. "You're not special. You don't believe in anything. I need to add philosophical and Tolstoy under King of the County on the list of things I'm not." He shrugged and nodded, cold and aloof. "You got it."

"Go to hell."

"Pretty sure I'm already there." He joked, and I hated him for it. I wanted him to yell and say stupid things that made no sense. "Is fourteen the starting point of getting all hormonal and losing your minds these days? Get a little louder, Sam, I think a few walkers over in Mississippi may have missed you're tirade."

I punched him. I punched him right in his shot up ear. He scrunched up his face and crunched his teeth together, presumably holding back a howl of pain, and shoved me, sending me onto my back in the sleeping bag. I stayed there, pulling the warm flannel inner layer up over my face and hiding the irrational tears. Wasn't surprising—considering the whole irrational one-sided screaming match I'd just had.

All because he called me special.

* * *

"Hey, Carl." I said tentatively the next morning as we packed up our gear and loaded it up into the car. I whistled twice, signaling for Cupo that it was time to come back from his trek into the woods. "About last night—"

"Don't mention it." He said, shrugging his shoulders and grinning at me. "Hey look at this though."

He pulled out the map and spread it on the hood of the car. I leaned over next to him and he tapped two spots on the map simultaneously. "We're here?" I questioned, placing my finger next to one of his.

"Yeah, and this town here is not too far away. I figured we could stop and look for—I don't know what it is—Midol or whatever?"

"Ugh, fucking jackass." I growled as I shoved him. He just laughed at me and I couldn't help but chuckle myself. I was pretty moody last night. Practically lost my damn mind.

"Seriously though, we need to look for gas and it seems like a pretty good sized place so I thought there'd be a department store or something. It's getting colder and we still have a ways to go before we get to King County. I figured we could find extra clothes or blankets or whatever."

"Sounds good. Let's do it."

* * *

We weren't even on the road for an hour before it started snowing. Sam laughed from the seat next to me and stuck her hand out the window. Cold air poured in, but she kept it down for another few miles, catching snowflakes on her palm, watching them melt from her own heat. Finally she rolled it up and blasted the heater.

"Have you ever made a snowman?" She asked me seriously. I thought about it and then smiled.

"Yeah—my uh—my dad used to take us out west on vacations. We'd drive through Yellowstone and Glacier parks during Christmas break and every ten miles we stopped to make a snowman. Mom said we were leaving behind little pieces of ourselves so we never really had to go home." I watched the snow build up along the edges of the road and shrugged my shoulders. "Haven't you?"

"No." She didn't elaborate, just a simple no. She sounded wistful.

"Well it looks like it's sticking pretty good, so I say when we reach this place we're going—we stick around long enough to leave behind a few little pieces of ourselves." I glanced sideways at her and watched an excited smile spread across her face.

"Ok."

"Ok."

* * *

I'd seen Sam laugh and I'd seen her smile—but up until the moment we climbed out of the car outside of Ma's Table Café in Eatonville, Georgia and started rolling out the pieces to our snowman—who she'd decided to name Sherman—I was almost positive that I'd never seen her truly happy.

"This is so cool." She said, shoving two large rocks where Sherman's eyes would be and drawing a smile with her finger a little ways beneath them. "Ugh, my hands are freezing though."

She rubbed them against her jeans to dry them and rubbed them together vigorously to heat them up. Spontaneously, I reached out and pulled them close to my face, blowing hot air against them in long burst. Redness creeped up her neck and she bit her lip, tucking them into her pockets after I released them. "So—should we check the diner first?"

"Um, ok." The diner, as it turned out, was chained shut—from the inside. "That's weird."

"Back door?" I suggested, indicating the alley with a wave of my hand. Sam looked up and down the road and then shook her head.

"Let's try a few other place first."

We progressed up the deserted street, getting farther and farther away from Sherman and the diner, coming up with the same result at each stop—chained shut from within.

"Kind of creepy—right?" Sam murmured warily as I pulled on the door to Sassy Frill's—a clothing boutique at the end of a row of shops—chains clinked softly together from the other side and I smirked at her.

"Yeah, a little bit."

"What do you think happened?"

"My guess is they didn't want people looting their shit so they chained it all up and then left out the back doors."

"The entire town?"

"Haven't you ever seen Gilmore Girls, Sam? Small town folk do everything as a unit." I really had not intended to make an embarrassing revelation of my showtime interests from my previous life and I walked away in a hurry to avoid the amused twinkle in Sam's eyes. She followed me around to the side of the street and I could practically hear the gears in her head spinning to create an insult.

"Let's try the fire escape." I pointed to the rickety looking ladder hanging off the side of the building and leading up to a second story window. Sam eyed it warily, the amusement quickly fading out of her expression. "You're not afraid of heights are you?"

"No." She retorted hostilely, shoving past me. I watched idly as she jumped up a few time, trying to reach the bottom rung of the ladder.

"Need a hand up?" I said with amusement. She scowled at me over her shoulder and I laughed. I leaned over behind her, linking my fingers and widening my stance to better hold her weight. I hoisted her up and she grabbed the ladder, dragging it noisily to street level. "What, no thank you?"

"Bite me." She only got two or three rungs up before turning to look at me over her shoulder. "You probably should go first."

"Why's that?"

"Because—I don't want you looking at my butt the whole way up." She hopped down and motioned for me to go. I grinned at her.

"But—what about you looking at mine?"

"Will you just go?" She demanded with a roll of her eyes. I obliged.

"You know, Sam, I think you just didn't want to go first. You don't have much of a butt for me to look at." I tried to open the window, but couldn't get it to budge.

"Just break it." Sam suggested. "Can't be more than one or two walkers inside, if any."

The top floor was empty. The room we climbed into was a long one with rows of file cabinets along one wall. A door stood ajar at the far end and was an office of sorts, holding a desk and a chair. Their was a picture hanging on the wall of a family of four having a picnic at the park. Sam stared at it for a long time before leaving the room and making her way out. A set of stairs led down to the first floor as soon as we exited the door of the file room. I followed her down and we took the hallway to the store front.

Sam gasped and stopped short causing me to bump into her and send her stumbling into the ring of Walkers heading our way. Instantly my gun was out and I was popping off a few shots. Sam fell on her butt and scrambled back toward me in a sort of crab walk, fumbling for the gun at her hip.

I cursed at the tinkling of glass drew my eyes farther into the room. It was packed with the walking dead. Sam was on her feet, firing her gun. "Don't waste it. Let's get out of here."

She was frozen, staring at a face in the crowd, one I recognized from the picture upstairs. A little girl.

"Go, Sam, get up the stairs." I yelled and grabbed her shirt, pulling her behind me and then shoving her hard ahead of me up the hall, firing the last of the rounds from my gun. She stumbled down the narrow hallway and disappeared around the corner. I heard her scream and then her gun popped twice. I chanced a look over my shoulder and then picked up the pace, cursing under my breath at the size of the group of dead ones piling up in the corridor behind me. I turned the corner and cried in shock as the wood floor gave way beneath me and my leg sunk down between the panels.

Sam hurried to my side and grabbed my arm, giving a yank before I could tell her not to. Sam's face turned green at the sickening pop of breaking bones and I screamed as pure agonizing hell reverberated through my entire body.

"Fuck." Sam's gun came clumsily to the ready and she started firing into the hallway behind me. I managed to pull myself out of the hole, but could barely drag myself a few feet across the floor, much less up a flight of stairs. "We gotta move, Carl."

She wrapped her arms around my middle and I grabbed onto the stair railing, helping her drag me to my feet. Another crunch sounded with the least bit of pressure and I felt blood oozing down my leg. "I can't get up there, Sam."

"You have to. Put your weight on me." I knew I was a good forty pounds heavier than Sam. I didn't know how she was going to get me up those stairs, but I did what she said and at an agonizingly slow rate, managed to hop my way onto the second floor. Instantly, I fell onto my side and groaned, woozy and light headed from the pain and probably the blood loss if the new color of my pants was any indication.

"You have to help me." Sam hissed at me, yanking hard from under my arms and dragging me a few feet across the floor. I snarled in pain and clenched my hands tighter around my knee, feeling the jagged edge of my bone sticking out from the shredded skin.

"I can't, Sam." I mumbled, completely unashamed of the sobs breaking free and muddling my words. "It's bad. Real bad."

She huffed and puffed and managed to drag me over into the office and then around the big bulky wooden desk to prop me up against the wall there. I watched her through pain fogged eyes as she shoved the thing up against the door and took a second to catch her breath before she was yanking out one of the drawers and busting it apart. She came over to kneel between my legs and used her knife to cut my pants leg off and reveal the damaged leg within. "Don't look."

Too late for that. Vomit rose up in my stomach and I managed to lean over to the side and spew it out into the floor rather than in my own lap. I wiped my mouth and groaned. "Shit, that's worse than real bad."

Sam pulled her shirt off and cut it into strips. If she was scared, she was doing a good job of pretending she wasn't. The moaning of the Walkers downstairs was frenzied and angry sounding. "I've never heard them like that."

I swallowed and remembered all the days at the prison—them pushing up against the fences and practically screaming to get in. I didn't say it out loud—but they'd managed to muscle their way inside and I had no doubt that they'd eventually pile themselves up the stairs and no way was a door and a desk going to keep them from their first meal in god knows how long.

"I have to—Carl, I—"

"Give me something to bite down on." I said bravely, knowing that what was coming was probably going to be more painful than the break itself. She wrapped a scrap from the desk in a strip of her shirt and I stuck it between my teeth. Her fingers touched the raw skin on my leg and I groaned.

"You ready."

"No." I answered honestly, crossed both arms over my face, and nodded for her go ahead. The bone snapped a third time as she twisted it into place and a disgusting gushing sound seemed to echo around the room as it slid back into my skin. I slumped over into the puke puddle I'd made a few minutes before and the room went black.

**Author's Note**:

**Thanks so much to bridgetlynn for your unbelievably epic review! Honestly-it was probably more extraordinary than this entire chapter.**

**Meh-it's been a bit since I've updated and I think I like what I've come up with for this chapter-but I haven't decided yet..what do all of you beautiful people think?**

**I love yuns..seriously, for reviewing and favoriting and following. Gives me such good proud momma feels :) Cause I love creating this for real and I've got so much in the idea bank for this little story I've got going on-I'm just as anxious to see where it goes as you all :)**

**Take care now.**

**Bye bye then.**

**Also: Judith lived...what?**


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